The Benefits of Having Friends
by DRCA9
Summary: When the Glee kids gets tired of waiting on Santana and Brittany...


**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Author's Note: **This is just something I wrote down while imagining that most (if not all) of the Glee kids and Mr. Schue were just waiting for Brittany and Santana to get together like us. So, maybe this is post season two, maybe before. It's a one-shot, one-shot. Thanks for reading and reviewing those other Glee fics I'm working on, oh and the Spashley (what is this?) ones too.

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><p>Brittany's busy pulling the marshmallows out of her sandwich when she feels the sudden presence of someone very tall looming over her.<p>

It's Finn.

"Hi," the boy greets brightly.

"Hey," she says, tossing another marshmallow into her chocolate milk.

"Can I talk to you, Brittany?" he says, sitting his tray down and them himself. "Is it okay if I call you Brittany?"

"What else would you call me?"

***o*O*o***

"This seat taken?"

Santana looks up and has to do a double-take.

Sure they hang out during Glee club and go to the Lima Bean occasionally, but she thought she'd made it perfectly clear that there was to be no communication outside of those safe zones.

Somebody needs a refresher course.

"Weezy, not now. I'm trying to masticate while looking fabulous. And I can't do that _and_ pretend to listen to you-"

"Whatever," Mercedes cuts her off, sitting down anyway. "You're so lucky I owe Kurt a favor and even more lucky he owes Brittany one. Because I'm so tempted to just let you wallow in your self-pity until you grow a soul."

Santana sits up at the name Brittany, her interest piqued, but she's going through pains not to show it. "What do you want?"

"What I want is for you to get a better attitude, but I'd settle for you listening up to what I have to say because this dance ya'll have been playing all year long has gotten old."

***o*O*o***

"I want to talk to you about something important, Brittany."

"Santana says I shouldn't talk to you."

Finn looks perplexed. "Why?"

"She said your puffy nipple disease is contagious," Brittany deadpans.

Finn crosses his arms, huffy. "I don't have puffy nipples. God, why does she keep saying that?"

Brittany shrugs. "Why does anyone keep saying anything?"

Finn just stares.

***o*O*o***

"Look Satan, I know we don't really get along and helping you out should be on my list of least favorite things to do, especially when you replaced my deodorant with some kind of lard last year. I smelled like bacon for days."

Santana smirks. "I do try."

"Anyway, you and Brittany need to go ahead and get it on already. We all know. The entire club; and we're all sick of getting caught in the cross-hairs of your love connection."

"What?"

"The longing stares, the flirty smiles, the understated glances that are about as subtle as a six-foot man wearing a sequined gown and a really bad weave."

Santana frowns. "Did you just compare me and Brittz to RuPaul."

***o*O*o***

"Britt, we all know I'm pretty good when it comes to the ladies," Finn grins.

"Actually. You're not. Quinn cheated on you…"

"Well, okay, but-"

"And then Rachel cheated on you, and with the same guy,"

"That was just-"

"Then when you got back together with Quinn you thought she was cheating on you, and, in hindsight, she probably should have-""

"Okay!" Finn says, holding up his hand. "Okay. I get it. I'm not the best when it comes to the ladies. But I do know this, alright. Santana likes you."

***o*O*o***

"Brittany likes you,"

Santana looks down at the table, her carrot sticks suddenly _very_ interesting. "Yeah, I know. As a friend."

Mercedes groans. "Are you seriously going to make me do this? She likes you, okay? She's all the way into you for some bizarre reason. She even threatened to pinch Artie's wheelchair if he doesn't stop cracking on you, which, have you heard Artie's 'you'. It's pretty dead on."

"Oh, whatever," the Latina grumbles, her face heating up as she rolls her eyes.

"Yeah," Mercedes grins. "He does it just like that."

***o*O*o***

Brittany twirls a few milky marshmallows around in her cup with a straw. "Santana's my best friend."

"Oh, come off it, Brittany. I know you don't think you're all that smart but you have to know that Santana wants to get a _lot_ more than friendly with you," Finn says, leaning in closer. "All you have to do is ask her out and-"

Brittany's eyes widen. "No. No way. I'm not doing that."

"Why not?"

***o*O*o***

"Because she's gonna say, no, okay. Brittz and I talked about this. And right now, she's perfectly okay with us being besties and…" Santana swallows. "If that's the only way I'm gonna be able to have her, then…I'll take it."

"You're being a coward." Mercedes tells her, coming dangerously close to pressing a very dangerous button.

"I…," Santana grits out, her jaw clenched. "…am not a coward."

"Prove it. Ask her out during Glee today."

***o*O*o***

"I guarantee you she'll say yes," Finn smiles, patting her gently on the shoulder.

It's quite an amazing feat seeing as she's seated way, way across on the other side of the table.

This kid's got arms like Mr. Stretch.

"And if she doesn't?"

"I'll buy all of Lord Tubbington's food for a month," Finn assertively states, nodding once.

Brittany looks on in awe. "How much money does your family _have_?"

***o*O*o***

**Later…**

"Okay," Quinn says, rolling up her – well she doesn't really have any, but – sleeves and marching over to Santana and Brittany, up to here with the (no pun) beating around the bush. "Enough is enough," she grumbles, bowling into both of the girls and forcing them to knock heads and sway back comically like two very attractive bowling pins.

"Ow!" Santana says, clutching her forehead. "What the hell, Q? Did dropping that baby throw off your equilibrium or something?"

"San," Brittany questions, pouting. "Am I invisible?"

Quinn stands there, shoulders heaving as she glares at Santana, because her friend – the same crazy ass chick who told her the first day of cheer camp that Sue Sylvester used hot iron presses on any Cheerio that missed the beat in a routine, the same chick that broke her arm in three places once and then laughed it off like the fucking Joker – is being such a pussy about this it's not even funny.

No, seriously, she's actually pissed about it.

"Just do it, already," she manages to say, although her voice is in the eerily ominous high range that's just a grade above fingernails on a chalkboard. You don't mess with Quinn Fabray when she's at this level of crazy.

Then Quinn calmly walks away, joining her 'group' of Rachel, Sam, Artie, Mike, and Tina.

Santana peeks over a still-smarting Brittany to see Mercedes, Puck, Lauren, Mr. Schue, Finn and Kurt suddenly looking very interested in the wall pattern.

It's white, by the way.

She rolls her eyes.

"Britt Britt?" she says, waiting for the other girl to stop wincing.

"Yeah San?"

Santana breathes in a shaky breath, letting it out through her nostrils, and smiles. All she can see now is Brittany.

Brittany Susan Pierce, the girl she's best friends with and so in love with it should be illegal.

Actually, it may be a little illegal in some parts of the world.

"I'm gonna ask you something, 'kay?" she says softly, shyly reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair neatly back in place behind Brittany's ear.

"Okay," Brittany answers, just as quietly, peeking over Santana's shoulder where the other half of Glee club seem to suddenly get very interested in what looks like an intense bout of _Rock, Paper, Scissors_.

"Will you…I mean, would you like to, maybe, some time, go out…with me?" Santana asks, the butterflies – no, dragons, they were definitely dragons – flapping insanely around in her stomach.

Brittany's eyes brighten and sparkle like sapphires. "You mean like a date?"

Santana allows a slow, hopeful, smile to spread across her face. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Brittany sighs, tilting her head and moving a little closer.

"Yeah?" Santana questions again, her smile breaking out in full force.

Brittany shifts even closer and brushes her nose against Santana's, cutely. "Yeah," she whispers, their faces only a breath away.

***o*O*o***

If Quinn had to describe, she'd probably say that…

Santana is off her nutter.

There are clothes everywhere and she's so glad that she and Santana are purely friends in the platonic sense because she's seen just enough of Santana to kill the mystery and also dispel that nasty boob job rumor.

If anyone asks: they're real.

"How does this look?" the Latina asks, emerging from her closet in a black and white form fitting halter dress, and yeah, it may be a little dressy for dinner and a movie – especially dinner and a movie in _Lima_ – but, just like all the other forty-thousand outfits the girl has tried on, it looks-

"Fine," Quinn groans, head in her hands. "It looks fine. You look fine. In fact, if I swung that way, I'd hit that. Now, will you get the hell out of here? Britt's texted me like four-times. And you know that's a lot for her because it takes her like ten minutes per text."

"Okay, okay," Santana says, throwing on a leather jacket and checking her make-up one last time. "Are you sure I look okay?"

Quinn starts after her. "If you don't-"

"I'm going. I'm going."

***o*O*o***

"Brittany, stop twirling," Tina says, lying back on Brittany's comforter – one of a million it seems. "You're making me dizzy."

Brittany stops her solo waltz and stands stock still in the middle of her bedroom, looking down at the other girl. "I'm so excited."

Tina smiles. "I can tell."

"Do you think we'll get to dance?" she asks, smoothing out her t-shirt. "I really want to dance with San. And maybe we can go for a moonlight stroll?"

"We are talking about the same girl, right?" Tina asks her, slowly sitting up. "Santana? Santana Lopez?"

"She'll do it if I ask her to," Brittany grins, her face coy. "Just you wait and see."

***o*O*o***

Something's wrong with Santana's finger.

It like doesn't want to press the doorbell or something.

She's literally brought her hand up to press it three times and every time all she gets is door jamb.

She hold her hands to her face, giving them the once over and it's only then that she realizes she's shaking.

_Oh_.

Knock. Knock.

The door opens immediately and there she is.

Her Britt-Britt.

Smiling wide and looking as gorgeous as ever.

It should be weird, saying what she's about to say, especially in this context, but, as the words spill out of her mouth, she can't find anything odd about them. "You look so pretty tonight, Britt."

Brittany beams. "You look hot."

Santana snorts.

Oh, yeah.

That's her Britt-Britt.

***o*O*o***

The concierge kind of leered and Santana kind of wanted to punch his teeth in when she told him she wanted a table for two and he said he wanted to wait until her date showed up before seating her.

Luckily though, Brittany calmly saved the day by gripping her hand firmly and calmly explaining that they were out together and there wouldn't be anyone else joining them.

Actually, she just kind of shrugged and said, "I'm right here," but Santana has long since been turning Brittany-isms into philosophical gems.

No point in bumping that trend tonight.

Now, though, she is sitting across from Brittany, far away enough to be casual but close enough to maintain that atmosphere of intimacy, and Brittany is waxing philosophical about the importance of – what else – cups.

"You can just use them for so much, you know?" Brittany says, munching on a bit of chicken. "You can drink soda, orange juice, gin, coffee, milk, tequila, apple juice-"

"Britt," Santana smiles, interrupting the girl. "What else can you use them for other than drinking stuff?"

Brittany looks perplexed for a moment and it's cute, for lack of a better word, and Santana just falls that little bit more in love when Brittany suddenly brightens.

"You can pour stuff too," she says excitedly. "You can pour soda, orange juice, gin, coffee, milk, tequila, apple juice, grape juice, champagne…"

Santana just grins wider and digs into her linguine.

***o*O*o***

The walk to the movie theatre is a short one.

In a small town like Lima, Ohio, everything that's anything is all in one spot. Everything else is a whole lotta nothing.

Brittany once told her that.

See, Brittany's hella smart.

"What movie are we going to see?" Brittany asks, swinging their intertwined hands back and forth between them.

"The movie you begged to go to all summer."

Brittany gets really excited, it's written all over her face, but she sobers up quickly. "But you said you didn't want to see some dumb kids' movie. Especially a sequel."

"Can I tell you a secret?" Santana asks, halting their progress. "I didn't really mean that. I just…I wanted to be able to take you to see it, like a date. But, I was too scared to ask before."

Brittany blinks once.

Twice.

She gets to about the seventh time before she speaks and when she does…

"I know we're only on are first date and I don't want to seem easy and I should probably wait until later but I really want to kiss you right now," she rushes out, all in one breath.

Santana blinks.

But Brittany doesn't wait for seven, she dives right in, planting an incendiary but still somewhat chaste kiss right on Santana's lips.

It takes all of six seconds but Brittany pulls back, smiling like she knows the meaning to life. "You're so cute, San."

Santana clears her throat, somehow finding her voice after that as they resume their walk. "Why?"

Brittany stops at the entrance of the theatre, reaching up her free hand to cup Santana's cheek. "You're blushing."

Santana hadn't even noticed.

***o*O*o***

_Cars 2_? Completely underrated.

Who knew you could have so much fun watching animated cars come to life?

Santana's enjoyment might have something to do with the fact that Brittany's attention span has never been that long so that whenever the movie got boring – which was often – she'd just lean over and kiss Santana.

And kiss her.

And kiss her.

_Cars 2_ is Santana Lopez's new favorite movie.

That shit deserves an Oscar.

They are sitting in her car now, and Santana leans her head back against the headrest, swiveling to look at Brittany. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"Well…" Brittany trails off, turning to Santana with a playfully devilish look in her eye. "No scissoring. I know we're not new to everything because we've been there and done that – we've even done that in Mason Knowles' basement. Remember San, it was so dark that I accidentally grabbed that whoopee cushion instead of your boob?"

"I remember, Britt," Santana grins, sitting up and scooting over a little closer to the passenger seat.

"But, yeah,, anyway, I don't want us to just, you know, have sex. I want it to be special and sweet and tender."

Santana smiles, grabbing Brittany's hand and turning it over, tracing over the lines on her palm. "I want that too, Brittz." The Latina gets suddenly shy, her eyes more interested in Brittany's palm than the blue orbs shining back at her. "I want to make love to you, Brittany," she says quietly and Brittany's hand flips over to grab hers, squeezing tightly and she brings her gaze back up to meet hers. "But, until then, I'm okay with some sweet lady kisses."

Brittany grins and tugs on her arm, effectively pulling her over the arm rest. "_That_, we can do."

***o*O*o***

**Next day at school…**

The Glee kids arrive at McKinley relatively early, hoping to see if their plan worked seamlessly or not.

Puck spots them first. "Okay guys," he hisses, looking around quickly. "Here they come. Act natural."

Everyone vogues.

Brittany and Santana walk into the library, pinky in pinky, Santana holding Brittany's books and Brittany holding Santana's.

D'awww.

Santana bursts out laughing when she sees them all, poised like they're waiting for their close-ups. "You guys are such losers. Geez."

"Whatever," Puck says, sitting normal again. "Just spill already."

"Spill what?" Brittany asks blankly.

"There's nothing to spill, Puckerman. Brittz and I went to dinner and a movie. That's all."

"But, like, you enjoyed it," Rachel says, nodding unsurely. "Right?"

Santana shrugs, turning momentarily to Brittany. "It was good."

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "That's all you're giving us? After everything we did for you two? It was good?"

Brittany shrugs this time. "It was really good?"

"Unbelievable," Mercedes huffs, collecting her things to go to first period.

"No more favors for you, Brittany," Finn mumbles, looking glumly at the blonde girl until Santana jumps at him and he scurries away.

Brittany leans into Santana as they walk away. "Did I do it right, San?"

"Yeah, babe," Santana reassures her, shifting her fingers so that they're holding hands. "Nobody needs to know what we do in private but us."

Brittany's genuinely concerned. "But, San, you're really good at sweet lady kisses. What if they need our help? What if that's why Finn keeps getting cheated on?"

"No, Britt."

_**Fin.**_


End file.
